


HappyBrew Emporium

by hunkydoryharry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: BUT IT WILL BE HAPPY, Fluff filled, Harry is soft and gentle, Harry loves Green tea, Louis is dumb and too far gone, Louis likes white tea, M/M, Self-Indulgent, TEA IS MY PASSION, Tea, Tea shop AU, gay gnome in harry's garden, gayyyy, larry stylinson - Freeform, not sure where this will go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-01-09 21:14:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12284535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunkydoryharry/pseuds/hunkydoryharry
Summary: Harry works in a tea shop; Louis accidentally burns himself.





	1. Boiling

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Basically, this is completely self-indulgent. I love tea and want to run a tea shop one day. Tea is my special interest (I'm Autistic yo) and I know lots about it so I thought why not bring my two favourite things together: Tea and Larry. I don't do smut so there will be none. But expect fluffy gay cute moments and soft colours and silky scarves and awkward laughter, because that is something I can actually do in an okay way.
> 
> See you on the other side!

The first thing Louis noticed about the shop was the cute boy at the counter. He walked over to where glass Teapots sat on a counter next to small plastic shot glasses. He poured himself a shot of Citrus Tart and gulped it down, realising that it was boiling hot a second too late. He spluttered, coughing tea down his shirt. “Shit!” He hissed, flapping at the stinging spillage.

“Here you go, sir,” Louis jumped as the boy – long brown curls, piercing green eyes, sinful pink lips – handed him a paper napkin. “It does say... there,” He pointed at the sign, “That they will be hot,” There's a hint of amusement in his tone. Louis flushed, eyes darting from lips to eyes to lips to shoulders to hair. “Uh...” He said, and then again, “Erm.”

“Is your shirt dry clean only?” The boy asked. 

“No,” Louis choked out.

“Good,” He smiled, and dimples popped. “'Can I offer you a free hot drink since you burnt yourself?” 

“Uh, sure. Just don't make it too hot,” He – thank god – found his feet in the conversation and weakly made a joke. The boy waved Louis over to the counter, behind which was shelves and shelves of large metal containers. Each one had a different label; Cranberry Kiss, Gunpowder Green Tea, Gingerbread Chai, Proper Peppermint. Louis watched as the boy retrieved a take-out cup and plastic lid from underneath the wooden counter. “What tea do you like?” He asked. 

Louis' eyes scanned the jars again, mouth falling open slightly. “There's so many!” He said, then laughed, “I'm a sucker for a good white tea.”

The boy's smile widened and he clapped his hands excitedly, “We have a large range of white tea! Any flavours you're looking for in particular?” Louis pursed his lips. “Have you got Orange?

He turned around and pulled a container off the bottom shelf. “One Sweet Orange white tea coming up!” Louis watched as he rinsed off a small metal strainer in the stainless steel sink and scooped out a small amount of tea leaves with a measuring spoon. “Any particular strength you'd like it to be?” He asked. “Normal, I guess,” Louis replied, wringing his hands nervously. The boy was wearing a soft, so soft, grey jumper and Louis wanted to reach out and touch it. He watched the way his hands worked, carefully pouring the tea into the infuser and dispensing hot water into the cup. His fingers were long and his nails were trimmed and clean. God, Louis thought. God. 

“Here you go!” The boy nudged the tea across the counter towards Louis. “Thank you for shopping at HappyBrew Tea Emporium...” And then, softer, “'M name's Harry. I work Tuesdays and Fridays.”


	2. Friday

Of course, Louis made his way to HappyBrew as soon as he could. The Orange tea was phenomenal, and he wanted to tell Harry that. He also wanted to tell Harry that he was gay. Also Single. Also horny. 

Harry's hair was wrapped up in a flowery blue scarf. He was serving an old lady who was buying a large box of English Breakfast and arguing over the price. “Seven pounds fifty!?” She hissed, “That's robbery! I could get cheaper tea in Tesco! You're supposed to be selling me good products, not stealing seniors' money!” Harry gave her a terse smile. “Our tea is worth the price, hand picked and packaged, each tea has a story to tell. I understand that for some people, the prices are too high, but if you want good quality, full bodied tisanes, green, white, and black tea the prices are perfectly reasonable,” He said gently, and for some reason Louis felt like he really believed in what he was saying. The lady muttered something under her breath and slapped a ten pound note on the table. Harry's smile transformed into something warmer as he handed her the change and put the tea in a paper HappyBrew bag. “Have a lovely day,” He waved her out before turning to where Louis had been lingering, next to the Premium Hot Chocolate. 

“You never told me your name,” Harry grinned, hands flickering up to check his hair was still in place.

He cleared his throat, “Louis.”

“Well, Louis, how can I help you today? I'm afraid there can't be any more teas on the house. I've got to earn a living, you see,” He explained.

“Of course,” Louis said, “I've come to try something new.” Harry's eyes lit up, “Do you have any allergies?” He went through the protocol but never once sounded like he was reciting off paper. “Can I suggest Succulent Watermelon Green tea?” He offered Louis a jar to sniff – and it smelt divine. Not like the sugar covered watermelon sweets you buy at your local, but like sniffing an actual freshly cut watermelon. And Goddamn Louis loved watermelon. “Sounds perfect,” He smiled and watched as Harry prepared a cup and tea strainer. “You don't use boiling water for Green tea otherwise is goes bitter,” He explained as he poured a cup of boiling water and waited a few minutes before infusing the tea. “Needs to brew for two to three minutes, no more, no less,” He paused as he peered into the cup, which was steadily turning green. “Which gives us time to talk.”

“So...” Louis began. “How'd you end up working in HappyBrew?”

 

“My friend runs the place, I asked to help out. It's a happy job. Keeps me busy.” Harry answered.

“You don't get stressed out? What about that lady; surely you got stressed out then? I know I'd get annoyed if someone was doubting the... uh... quality of my tea.”

Harry laughed, “Honestly, I find difficult customers invigorating. Gotta sell them the tea, yanno? Job satisfaction and all that jazz,” He took out the infuser and dumped the spent tea in the bin, slinking the infuser into the sink. “That'd be two pounds twenty, thank you,” He said as Louis passed him a few grubby coins. Before Louis could take the cup, he uncapped a marker pen that had been sitting on the counter and scribbled something onto the cup. “There you go,” He smiled softly, handing the cup over.

Louis turned it around to see what he had written. He blinked in surprise. “You... your phone number?” He said weakly, heart pounding.

Harry formed his hand into a telephone, “Call me,” He smiled.


	3. Gentle

Louis came in late. It was half five and Harry was locking up, sweeping the floor with a rainbow scarf holding back his curls. “Harry,” Louis said, making him jump. He shot Louis an embarrassed smile. “Didn't see you there,” He said, a hand reaching up to fix where the silky scarf had slipped down slightly. He was wearing shiny new Chelsea boots and a loose white shirt. “Closing up?” Louis swallowed a lump in his throat that had appeared when he realised Harry's shirt was barely half buttoned. Harry chuckled, “Yep, gotta get rid of these sample teas. Don't suppose you want a few shots?” His dimples popped, “I promise they're not boiling.”

Louis nodded and made his way to where the glass teapots were lined up, half full with delicately scented tea. “Rose?” Louis sniffed and poured himself a shot. “Regal Rose,” Harry put the broom behind the counter and ambled over to Louis, pouring himself a shot too. Louis downed it quickly, enjoying the warmth coursing through his chest, while Harry sipped it slowly. Louis took this as an opportunity to look at Harry. He frowned, realising that Harry's hands were trembling slightly.

Before Louis had the chance to speak, Harry was binning his plastic shot glass and running a hand over his face. “Look – I,” He began, “I like you, okay? Would you maybe – would you like to come to mine once I finish packing up? I promise I'm not a creepy axe murderer. I just... thought it might be nice to talk. I'm gonna cook chickpea curry, crack open a few beers...” He trailed off, watching Louis' face intently. 

“Oh,” Louis said, blushed a sweet red. “Sure.”

They transferred the rest of the tester tea into take-away cups and Louis lingered by the door as Harry turned off the lights and locked the door, pulling the handle a few times to double check. 

The two of them, bundled up in coats, made their way to the Bus Station where Louis began scrounging his wallet for a few stray coins. Harry put a hand on his arm, “Don't worry, it's on me.” And usually Louis would protest but his stomach was doing somersaults and he feared that if he opened his mouth he would vomit all over lovely Harry. They sat next to each other on the Bus, Harry with his bag in his lap and Louis wringing his hands in his lap. The seats were blue and sagging; Louis wrinkled his nose as his Vans stuck to the floor. “Here we are,” Harry said fifteen minutes later, and the two of them stumbled to the front of the Bus. 

“You live on a street called Rose Way?” Louis laughed, “What a coincidence,” He lifted his half-empty cup of Rose tea. Harry's cheeks were almost as pink as the lips he kept licking nervously. “It's actually a few streets away, a shame I know. I always wanted to live somewhere with a cool name,” Harry beckoned for Louis to walk with him. 

After ten minutes walking Harry leads them down George St. and opens the rickety gate of Number 15. “Pretty garden,” Louis comments while Harry fumbles with the lock. There's two flowerbeds filled with soft pink flowers and a gnome holding a rainbow flag. Harry glanced at the garden, a wry grin appearing on his lips. “I work on it when I have time. Usually at the weekend.”

The first thing that hit Louis was the smell of something sweet. Somewhere between honey and freshly baked brownies. Before he realised what was happening, Harry was helping him shrug off his coat. “Oh – thanks,” He stumbled over his words when Harry's hand brushed the nape of his neck, hands warm. “D'you want a drink?” Harry asked. His voice sounded rough and sort of shrill. “Cup of tea?” Louis' lips were numb. 

“Of course,” Harry lead Louis to a small but tidy kitchen. The walls were painted baby blue; the mini fridge was covered in weird pictures of two cats, a black one and an orange one. “That's Sponge and Dusty,” Harry offered when he noticed Louis staring, “They're with my sister at the moment – shit, are you allergic? I should've checked beforehand, I'm sorry!” Louis chuckled but it was more like a giggle, “No, I'm not allergic. My parents have a dog – Clifford. I can barely take care of myself, let alone a dog,” He said with a self-depreciating smile.   
“Hey!” Harry emptied the old water from the kettle and re-filled it. “I'd say you're doing a fine job.”

“But...” Louis grinned, “You don't know that. I could live off Pot Noodles.” 

Harry fished two mugs from the cupboard and placed them on the counter. “True,” Was all he said, reaching for a metal box labelled 'boring tea.' “Oh my god!” Louis cackled, “You're judging my choice of tea, aren't you!” Harry's wry grin made a reappearance. “I myself prefer Green tea. I labelled them while I was tipsy and haven't been bothered to change it.”

“Of course,” Louis said, leaning against the counter next to Harry. Harry reached over Louis' head and opened one of the cupboards, pulling out a large box of Succulent Strawberry Green tea. Louis smelled an intoxicating smell better than any tea. Clean laundry, a lingering musk of aftershave and warm pleasantly greasy hair. His breath smelt of rose tea. His heart shuddered and he was sure his face went beet red. Say something say something anything at all!

“You traitor, that's not HappyBrew tea!” Louis finally said, feigning shock. Harry flushed, “HappyBrew doesn't have a strawberry Green tea yet. Just a herbal tisane,” He explained quickly. Louis nodded, “That's fine then,” And watched as Harry dug his infuser into the tea and scooped some out.

When both teas were sufficiently brewed, Harry showed Louis to the living room. The walls were the same blue as winter mornings, and there were a few old looking chairs strewn around. There was a mirror propped up against the wall, a box of records and a pink record-player on the coffee table. Louis placed his drink on the coffee table, a careful distance from the record player, and sat in one of the chairs, surprised at how worn and comfortable it was. “Found them in a skip,” Harry said, “Nearly broke my back getting them home.”

Louis chuckled, “My house isn't nearly as... comfortable as this. I've got the bare minimum. And no cats with ridiculous names, unfortunately.” Harry's face lit up, “You can stay for as long as you want!” He beamed. Louis sipped his tea, cautiously. “Can I ask you some questions, Harry? Like, before this becomes a thing I do?”

“Of course,” Harry says, sincerely, “I would like to ask some questions too.”

They talk for two and a half hours, pouring out childhoods and middle names and dreams and fears. Louis doesn't realise it's nearly half eight until he directs all of his focus to the clock on the mantelpiece. “Shit!” He said, “I've got to do some catching up on work... I – This has been wonderful, Harry.” Louis stood up and Harry does the same. “I – I was going to make dinner,” He says, “I've been a shit host, Louis. God, I can't let you starve –“

“Hey! It's okay, I'll pick up some Chinese on the way back,” He calls as Harry rushes to the kitchen, slamming open the fridge. “Lou! Wait! I've got a quinoa chicken avocado salad left over, you should have it,” Louis really didn't want any of that healthy-sounding shit, but as Harry pressed the Tupperware box into Louis' hands, he knew he didn't stand a chance.

“There,” Harry said, gentle as the silk scarf in his hair. Gentle as his smile. Gentle as his heart.

“Thank you,” Louis breathed.


	4. First Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back again!!! motivated and ready to write. thank u to lizzie and sabine for making me laugh. my depression is in remission and im feeling great in general. Please leave comments, they make my day. Sorry this is so short. Short and queer, right? Just like me.

“Harry Styles speaking.”

“Hi Harry...”

“Lou?”

“Yeah, it's Louis. I – was wondering if you... wanted to see my house? I haven't been very well and I know it's not as nice as yours but –“

“That sounds fantastic.” 

Louis can hear him smiling. 

“I'll come and get you at five fifty, alright?”

“Okay! Cool! See you then...”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

“... You're still there.”

“So are you.”

“Seriously this time, bye.”

“Bye.”

A giggle.

“Goodbye.”


	5. Big, Girthy Penises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in one night!? WHAT ON EARTH!!!!!!!!! this one's probably my favourite chapter. so fun to write. love fucking around with people's houses. this is how i imagine Louis' would be if he wasnt... famous af. and not doing something he loves. leave comments pls, it makes me feel like i'm doing something worth while. even a small comment would be appreciated.
> 
> Also, i apologise for any mistakes in the story line, i've just picked this up after months of nothing and even though I read through it i couldve missed some points. nothing too important i hope!!
> 
> happy reading.

It was a nice day. Lukewarm and blue as the paint in Harry's kitchen. Harry had been in a weird mood since they got off the Bus. His hands were trembling slightly in the pocket of his hoodie. “How was work?” Louis asked. Harry's head nodded spasmodically, “It was good! Really good! I shifted a tonne of the new Banana Split Hot Chocolate, not to mention that lady came in again. She wanted to buy Earl Grey, and when I said the price she didn't even complain!”

“Oh, wow,” Louis chuckled, “Must be... uh... fun. To do something you enjoy.”

Harry frowned, “What do you do, Louis? I've never – I've never asked, sorry...”

Louis' mouth shifted into something odd – a little uncomfortable. “I work in an office,” He said, after a long pause, “It's not, like, my dream job. But it's not awful by any stretch of the imagination. The lads are nice. The ladies are... yeah. It's an okay job.”

 

**

Louis and Harry trudged up the stairs to Louis' flat. It was dingy and smelt of wee, but Harry had given himself a mental talk about not commenting on anything negative. Anything at all. This would be nice, he had decided. After the third flight of stairs Louis was slightly red in the face. To Harry, who went to the gym three times a week and did yoga every day before bed, it was easy as fuck. 

Eventually they stopped at a brown door, labelled No. 13. Louis slipped the key out of his pocket with unsteady hands and pressed it into the latch, aware that Harry was watching his hands intently. After a few jigs the door swung – creaked – open, revealing a moderately clean beige carpet and a moderately dead looking house plant. “Ignore Tyler,” Louis grumbled, pointing at the drooping plant with his keys. “Come on in...” He lead the way, past the rows of – fucking tiny, fucking adorable – Vans, past the hooks that carried a few dank looking woollen scarves and half (yes, half) a bobble hat that dangled precariously. 

Harry could smell toast and honey, sweet and malted, with a sharp undertone of old fashioned soap. “Shit, shit, shit,” Louis chanted as he plucked dirty clothes from the sofa pushed against the living room wall. The first thing Harry noticed was the coffee table, which was wooden and well-worn, covered in coffee stains and permanent marker. He could definitely see a few dicks scratched into the surface. There were two Chinese take-out boxes that lay abandoned, which Louis grabbed and rushed from the room. “I'm so sorry, Harry. I... wasn't feeling well last week and I guess the flat kind of reflects that,” The smaller boy called over his shoulder, cheeks flushed. “It's no bother,” Harry smiled at his back, eyes trailing down to... well. Wow.

“I know you're staring at my arse,” Louis giggled, “I have a secret sense for that kinda stuff.”

The curly haired boy pouted, “And I was trying so hard to be subtle,” He sighed, guiding his gaze elsewhere. There was a impressively large TV opposite the sofa – Harry hoped he wasn't compensating – and a series of photographs on the wall, showing smiling girls with braided hair. Oh... “Your daughters are beautiful, Louis,” He said, quietly. Suddenly there was a presence to his left, and then there was a snort. Louis was pissing himself laughing. “They're my sisters, dipshit. I'm 22, hardly the age for multiple fucking children.”

Colour rushed to Harry's cheeks, “Oh God I'm sorry, I just assumed – you're a very pretty man, and I – You must be very popular with the ladies.” Was all he managed to say.

“Oh yeah,” Louis grinned, “The ladies get really turned on when I talk about my love for big, girthy penises.”

Harry was speechless. “Oh... well, me. Uh, me too. I am. Too. Yeah, uh, me too.”

Smooth.


	6. Orange Juice and Jizz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cheap orange juice. stains.
> 
> big sloppy love to phillip, my new hubby. he deserves the world for reading my shitty 4k fics. 
> 
> and smooches to everyone in the writing is hard gc. you're all wonderful <3
> 
> \- anwen xox

Harry sat down on the sofa, trying to avoid any of the white-ish stains. "Shit, yeah. Make yourself at home," Louis smiled, making his way into the small kitchen. "Tea? Juice? Coffee? Squash?" He called, followed by the sound of the kettle being filled. "Um. Juice?" Harry said hesitantly, because he didn't drink coffee. All that caffeine did nasty stuff to his ass, and he didn't want to inflict that upon his new-found friend's toilet. Louis made his way back into the room a few silent minutes later, holding two chipped mugs, one filled with orange juice and one filled with sugary instant coffee. "Thanks," Harry accepted the mug and took a sip. It was cheap smooth orange juice, and he preferred M&S with pulp. But beggars can't be choosers, so he continued to drink it politely.

"So," Louis looked around, slightly embarrassed, "This is my flat. I know it's shit -- if I had the money I'd repaint and get a new sofa, uh, but I don't so..." He smiled sheepishly.

"It's nice," Harry said quietly, and then a bit louder, "Cute. The pictures -- and the plant. It's cute. Plus this sofa is really comfy."

Louis laughed -- more like a giggle, "Don't touch any of the cushions, they have jizz on," and then, realising what he had just admitted, he added, "They were from a mate. It's not. Um. My... jizz."

"That's a shame," Harry said.

Louis choked on his coffee, spluttering it all over his jeans, and then thumped his chest to help himself breathe. "Jesus, I wasn't expecting that Harold."

"'M name's not Harold, Louisa."

Louis narrowed his eyes, "Nice change of subject, but okay, I'll go along with it."

They continued to banter for an hour, until Harry realised what time it was and said he was late for Pilates, standing up and nearly dying because he had been sitting on something sticky. "Thanks for coming over," Louis rubbed his chin, thinking that he needed a shave. "I'm sorry I don't have any healthy salad-y shit to feed you... I have cheese and onion crisp and three half-eaten jars of nutella. And maybe some cheese, if you're lucky..."

Harry smiled so widely his dimples popped out to say hello. Louis was endeared -- so fucking endeared.


End file.
